


Down to You and Me

by owlmoose



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Music, Politics, Post-Game(s), Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Spoilers, Uneasy Allies, Written to Fanmix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anora Mac Tier and Teagan Guerrin started out on opposite sides of Ferelden's Civil War. As alliances change and power shifts, they learn that they might work better as allies -- and possibly more than that. Written for the 2014 Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down to You and Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dust & Ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/74477) by cherith. 



> Inspired by cherith's Anora/Teagan fanmix, "Dust & Ashes" ([link](http://cherith.tumblr.com/post/98030532748/dust-and-ashes-a-post-blight-mix-for-bann-teagan)). The title of the story is a lyric from one of the songs, "Dust & Gold" by Arrows to Athens.

The meeting of the Banns was short, angry, and contentious. Loghain and Bann Teagan Guerrin squared off as the other lords of the Bannorn clumped into small anxious groups: listening, muttering amongst themselves, while Anora watched, silent at her father's side. When Loghain stormed off the balcony, Anora stayed at the railing as the nobles dispersed. Of them, only Teagan dressed in armor; only Teagan spoke of rebellion. But if the growing rumbles of discontent from the crowd were any indication, he wasn't the only one to think of it.

"Bann Teagan, please," she called out, and he turned back and looked up at her, expression a mixture of anger, worry, and grief: a reminder that Teagan, too, had lost family via Cailan's death. But so had her father. Why did no one seem to remember that detail?

"Your Majesty." He lifted a hand in warning. "Your father risks civil war. If Eamon were here..."

Anora stepped back from the rail, flicking her eyes downward. Was that a threat? Teagan was popular among the nobles, but not as influential as his elder brother. If Eamon Guerrin had been present, this audience might have gone quite differently. "Bann Teagan, my father is only doing what is best."

His gaze hardened. "Did he also do what was best for your husband, Your Majesty?"

With that, he left, striding out of the Landsmeet hall, the heavy wooden doors banging closed behind him. She turned to follow her father, fighting back a rush of anger at the implication. Her father had not plotted Cailan's death. He had not deliberately left him to die. How dare anyone imply him to be capable of such treason? The retreat had been a necessary evil, not a planned assassination. Anora's father wanted what was best for Ferelden. Anora believed that. She had to believe it. Surely Bann Teagan knew it, too.

But the seed of doubt remained, and no answers presented themselves to wash it away. And as the days passed, it was only watered by more questions: Would it come to civil war? What was her father planning? Why did he turn to that snake Rendon Howe as his closest advisor? What was the truth of the rumors coming out of the Alienage? Every passing day raised more questions, more reasons for Anora to worry.

Did he also do what was best for your husband? Teagan's words haunted her, as a bane to her sleep, a knife in her heart. Why had he said that? Was it the truth, as Teagan saw it? A grieving uncle, striking at a convenient target? Or was it calculated innuendo, subversive ideas planted by a political rival? 

And why did the question keep her up at night for weeks afterward?

-x-

The confrontation returned to Anora's mind months later, standing at the head of the Landsmeet chamber, the throne -- her throne, now -- behind her, when she noticed eye of a face in the crowd, noticing copper-brown hair and an elegant hooked nose. Bann Teagan Guerrin, back in the palace for the first time since that difficult day, stood in a corner, goblet in hand, chatting amiably with the red-haired woman from the Wardens' party. He caught her eye and raised his glass; she lifted her chin in acknowledgement. Then she realized that he was making his excuses to the woman and heading towards her. 

Looking up at her, again, just as he had before, but only respect was in evidence now -- no anger, no belligerence. Well, naturally; he and Eamon had gotten what they wanted. She tightened her jaw, but said nothing as he went down on one knee and bowed his head, raising a fist to his breast. 

"Congratulations, Your Majesty." He looked up with a warm smile. "I am glad to see you well."

Anora sorted through her thoughts until she hit upon a diplomatic response. "Thank you for your aid in defense of Denerim," she replied. "I hear that you led a contingent of men from Redcliffe."

Teagan got to his feet with a nod. "I had been tasked with the protection of Eamon's lands, but when it became clear that the darkspawn would not return that way, I deemed it more prudent to lead a force to flank them from the rear." He glanced over his shoulder to the middle of the room, where the Wardens mingled with the people, accepting their thanks and congratulations. "Not that it mattered, in the end." 

"I'm sure your contribution was felt." She raised a hand, and stepped away. "Now, if you will excuse me--"

"Of course, my queen." He lowered his chin in respectful acknowledgement. "I'm sure you have much to do. I merely wanted to pay my respects." 

"Thank you," she murmured as she turned away, moving toward Bann Ceorlic, putting Teagan out of her mind, along with all other Guerrins. She'd had enough of parleying with enemies; it was time to reconnect with her friends.

-x-

It had been an odd confrontation all around, if one could even class it a confrontation. 

Teagan had seen Queen Anora at Redcliffe, where the armies had gathered for their last assault on the darkspawn, but only from a distance -- he had been busy readying the troops and fortifying Redcliffe against further incursions, while she was sequestered with Eamon, the Grey Wardens, and other war leaders, planning strategy late into the night. At the time he had not thought to seek her out, but now the idea preyed on him. Eamon and Anora had not been allies, exactly, but neither had they been enemies, not until Loghain had driven the wedge of Cailan's death between them. Not that Teagan would call them enemies now, but the truce between them seemed rather precarious. If Eamon pushed Anora too hard, Anora would undoubtedly push back. 

"Is everything all right?" Teagan looked up to see Eamon in the doorway, his arms crossed. "You've been quiet all evening."

"Fine." Teagan stood up from the windowsill and faced his brother. "Just considering the new political reality in Ferelden. We haven't had much opportunity to talk since the Landsmeet."

"I suppose not." Eamon sighed; Teagan motioned to the chairs by the fireplace, and Eamon took a seat while Teagan went to the sideboard, pouring two glasses of brandy. He handed Eamon one tumbler before settling into his chair. Eamon took a quick sip, then shook his head. "I cannot help but call it a success, since we ended the infighting, then defeated the Blight. And yet nothing went as I anticipated."

"I imagine not." Teagan leaned forward, balancing his glass between his fingertips. "Particularly regarding your plans for Alistair. What happened there?"

Eamon snorted. "Elissa Cousland. She negotiated a deal with Anora on her own. I cannot fault her for choosing to ally with Anora -- she spoke against Loghain at the Landsmeet, and her public declaration against her own father, all but sealed our victory. I could have managed without Anora, but her support surely made it easier. And once Elissa got the idea in her head..."

Teagan chuckled. He had been present when Elissa had learned of Alistair's claim to the throne, had seen the shock in her eyes turn to skepticism at the thought of Alistair wearing a crown. He couldn't say he was surprised that she'd sought a different option. "She's Bryce's daughter, all right."

"Indeed." Eamon took another swig of the brandy. "If she'd decided to claim the throne for herself, I doubt there's much I could have done about it. In all honesty, I'm not sure which queen I would have preferred." He stared down into his glass. "Well. For good or ill, Anora is Queen of Ferelden. Alistair renounced his claim before the Landsmeet, and I have thrown her my full support."

Teagan sat up, cocked his head to the side. "Still, you're disappointed."

Eamon shrugged. "Alistair never wanted to rule, and it's hard to claim that he would make a better administrator than Anora. But it's a shame to lose the Theirin line after only two generations of free rule."

"If it means Ferelden survives, though..." Teagan shook his head. "You know how fond I am of Alistair. He's grown into a good man and a capable warrior. But he's not a leader." He lifted an eyebrow at his brother. "You saw to that, raising him to be a stable boy."

Eamon turned his head away. "Say what you like, but it kept the eyes of would-be usurpers off him. Maric hoped that he might blossom in the templars, but..." He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "But there's no use dwelling on what might have been. He's a Grey Warden now, and a fine one. Maybe the Maker's plan is at work after all."

"And Anora is more than competent. Has the capacity to be quite brilliant, really." Teagan took another drink and settled back against the chair cushions. "She has all her father's acumen without his blind spots."

"Time will tell." Eamon finished his brandy in one long draught before standing. "All right. It's been a long day, with more ahead. Get some sleep."

"Same to you," Teagan said, raising his glass in salute as Eamon left, closing the door behind him. Then he poured himself another, the drink warming him as much as the fire.

-x-

The next afternoon, Teagan found himself walking past the queen's office. The door was cracked open, and he ventured a look inside. She sat at her heavy wooden desk -- the same one Cailan had used, and Maric before him; she seemed quite content there as she sorted through a stack of papers. He cleared his throat, and she looked up.

"Bann Teagan," she said, eyebrows raised. "What brings you here?"

"We didn't have much chance to speak before," he said.

"No? What more do we have to say to one another?" Anora sat up and laid her arms on the desk. "You do not think I should be here."

It was a bare accusation, and Teagan recoiled from it, as if from a slap. "I never said that, Your Majesty, nor did I ever believe it."

"No?" Anora shook her head. "You accused my father of treason. Of Cailan's murder. You planted seeds of doubt against him in my mind. And your brother used that doubt--"

"Eamon's affairs are his own," Teagan said, interrupting her. "He does not appraise me of his plans, nor does he ask for my counsel."

"And if he had?" Her brows knit, dark and angry. "How would you have counseled him?"

Teagan sighed heavily, and he sat in the chair across from her desk. "With hindsight? I don't truthfully know. Would have I suggested leniency toward Teyrn Loghain? Approaching you for an alliance before his hand was forced to it by your actions, and Elissa Cousland's?" He set his hands on the desk, leaning forward. "The time leading up to the Landsmeet was difficult, confused. I don't mind telling you that I was powerfully angry with your father. First for his actions in Ostagar, and then for his role in the tragedy at Redcliffe. Eamon and his son both almost died, and we lost dozens of soldiers, knights, villagers. Whatever you think happened at Ostagar, the deaths in Redcliffe fall squarely on his shoulders. Did he deserve execution for that?" He shrugged. "Perhaps he did. I hear he accepted responsibility, in the end."

Anora's hands tightened on the desk. "He knew it was the end. He chose to accept it gracefully."

"Is that all, I wonder?" Teagan leaned back, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I did not mean to bring up such a difficult subject." 

"No one ever does," she muttered, lowering her lashes, turning away, but not before Teagan caught a glimpse of weariness in her eyes. How often had she had a variation of this conversation with one of her supposedly loyal subjects? 

"Still. I apologize for any pain I may have caused you-- may still be causing you." He tipped his head to the side. "You spoke against your father in the Landsmeet. I can only imagine what that must have cost you."

She turned, lifting her chin. Her eyes were heavy with sadness. "A part of me hopes you never come to a place where you might understand. But I wonder, too. Could you stand against your brother, if circumstances required it?"

"Yes." The answer came with no hesitation, with an alacrity that surprised even him. "Eamon is intelligent and experienced, but he's not infallible. When I believe him to be in the wrong, I tell him so. I just don't think he was in the wrong this time. Well," he amended, the thought of Alistair crossing his mind, "not entirely."

"Fair enough." Looking away again, her hand formed a loose fist on the desk. "It is an odd position for me, being forced to ally with Eamon Guerrin for the good of the realm."

Teagan chuckled. "He could say much the same, I'm sure. But, well." He waved a hand in the air. "He'll get used to it. As will you. And if you both lean on me as a go-between, I don't mind. Much." He stood up. "But I should go. I've taken up enough of your time."

"It's all right." Anora met his eyes. "Thank you, Teagan. For coming to me. I appreciate the opportunity to clear the air."

"As do I." Impulsively, he stepped forward, took her hand, placed a light kiss on the back. "Good day, Queen Anora." And before he could think too closely about the softness of her fingers, he turned and walked through the door.

-x-

Long days of meetings stretched from one into the next, as Anora met with every conceivable person who might have a stake in her rule: the Grand Cleric, the First Enchanter and Knight Commander of the Ferelden Circle, Elissa Cousland and her superior officers in the Grey Wardens, envoys from the other nations of Thedas -- the various interviews with the Orlesian ambassador had been particularly fraught -- and, it seemed, practically every noble in Ferelden. By the end of the week, she was exhausted, but the dinner at Arl Eamon's estate had already been scheduled, and she was loathe to beg off. Surely he would take a cancellation as some sign of weakness.

At least the meal was a small affair: Eamon, Arl Bryland and his daughter, a handful of the lesser nobles with holdings near to Redcliffe and South Reach. And, walking into the room after the soup had already been served, hastily slipping into the open seat across from Eamon and next to Anora, was Bann Teagan, dressed in casual garb, mud on his boots and his hair windblown.

Eamon set down his spoon and raised an eyebrow at his brother. "Kind of you to join us."

"Apologies, Eamon, Your Majesty." Teagan nodded to them in turn. "I was making my preparations to return to Rainesfere tomorrow, and I lost track of time."

"No need to apologize on my account," Anora said. "You're just in time for the soup. It's quite delicious, Eamon, please convey my compliments to your chef."

"Thank you." Eamon glanced at the wine steward, who responded with a nod, then topped off Anora's glass. "I'm just glad we had enough food in stock to make it, given everything that has happened. I fear the repast is paltry, in comparison to my usual standard for guests."

Anora shook her head. "If the reports of the devastation in the Bannorn are true, soon enough we'll be glad to have far less." If only she'd had that thought sooner -- she could have used that as an excuse to avoid this affair. Perhaps a moratorium on state dinners was in order.

Teagan nodded. "My people have sent reports of Blighted fields, destruction along the roads, countless farmers killed by darkspawn. And Rainesfere wasn't in the path of the main darkspawn force -- all that comes just from a handful of raids. I shudder to think of what Lothering and environs are going through tonight." He took a sip of his wine, then looked at Anora. "What of Gwaren, Your Majesty?"

"Protected from the worst, thank the Maker," Anora said. "The port has stayed open continuously, and I understand the forests were largely untouched. So we will have lumber to rebuild and to use in trade, and two working ports to bring in shipments of food."

"Two ports?" Teagan asked.

Anora nodded. "Gwaren and Highever. The port of Denerim was nearly destroyed in our final stand here, and without an Arl to keep order, Amaranthine is suffering from high smuggling activity. I hope, once the Wardens get it up and running, Amaranthine will be able to take more of the load, but that will take some time. At least Fergus Cousland is on his way back to Highever."

Eamon frowned. "Who is in charge in Gwaren, your majesty? You cannot rule as teyrna there and queen here both."

She turned toward him and favored him with a smile that felt like the baring of teeth. "My father's steward sees to the running of the teyrnir, as he has for the past twenty years. Do not worry for Gwaren's stability, Arl Eamon. As for naming a new teyrn, I have received many suggestions and petitions. Be assured that I will have a proposal to the Landsmeet before the year is out." Who was he angling for, she wondered. Bryland, Alfstanna, one of his other allies? Perhaps even his brother. That might explain a few things. She glanced sidelong toward Teagan, but his face betrayed nothing. 

"Of course," Eamon leaned back in his chair as the serving maid removed his soup bowl. "I apologize, if I spoke out of turn." 

"It's been too long since we've hosted a queen at the dinner table," Teagan said lightly. "And given that the last one to dine with us was our sister, well." He shrugged, then touched the side of her hand. "Forgive us, if we behave with a certain informality."

His hand was warm against hers, the touch surprisingly familiar. Anora looked at him, remembered that brief brush of his lips across the back of her hand that ended their last conversation. Was Teagan-- flirting with her?

He smiled, a fast quirk of his mouth upward, then pulled his hand back. It was quick, so quick that she might have imagined it. "So, do you have plans for the importation of food and other supplies? We lost nearly an entire growing season to this Blight and the associated troubles."

"Yes." Anora pulled her back straight and steadied herself on this more familiar ground. "I have, I believe, impressed upon various ambassadors that they owe us for stopping the Blight before it could expand to other countries. Shipments of grain and meat at reduced prices from Cumberland and Starkhaven, and a promise of aid more from Antiva. Even Orlais has presented a proposal for aid..."

-x-

The candles burned out, one by one, as Teagan waited, alone in the parlor. The fire crackled in the fireplace, the moon rose over the courtyard. 

Had he imagined it, the spark between their fingers as they touched at dinner? She was the queen, newly crowned to rule in her own right; she could have the pick of the men in Ferelden; surely she would not come to him, the man who had instigated the rebellion against her father. But still, he had returned to his apartment in the city, dashed off a brief letter, and sent it to the palace with a courier. In all likelihood, he waited in vain, but still he waited, standing by the window, glass in his hand.

And then the door opened, its creaking loud over the sounds of the fireplace. Teagan rose and turned to see Anora in the doorway, a sheet of parchment held in her elegant fingers.

"I received your note," she said.

He bowed to her. "Not too presumptuous, I hope."

She shook her head. "Just exactly presumptuous enough." With five steps, she was close enough to touch, and he dared to lift his hands to her forearms, his grip fitting just exactly around her wrists. She leaned in, he leaned back, and then they kissed, lightly. Her lips were warm, soft, just yielding enough, and he came closer, bringing his arms around her back. 

"This is a terrible idea," she murmured against his mouth. "And yet I am here."

"Why?" he asked, brushing against her lips in another kiss. "Not that I'm complaining, but..."

"I was curious." She leaned back, lifting a finger to his mouth. "You must not presume that this means anything, beyond a woman satisfying her curiosity. I am a queen. I cannot keep company with just anyone."

"Of course." He stepped back, letting his hands cup her elbows. "I would not expect you to. I just... I had to know."

Anora smiled. "Which is precisely why I came." She rested her hands on his shoulders, then ran them down his forearms, her palms warm through the fabric of his shirt. "And to satisfy another wonder, as well. You do realize that you may be the most eligible bachelor in all Ferelden. I've long been curious as to why you never took a wife."

Teagan shrugged. "Eamon. As long as the succession of Redcliffe was in doubt, we both thought it best to wait. The matter of the Bann of Rainesfere taking a wife is quite different than the Arl of Redcliffe. When Connor was born, I thought to start looking, but then..." He shook his head. "What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room, but Eamon will name me his heir in a few months. Shortly after, he plans to step down."

Anora's response was a slow nod. "This does not come as a surprise to me, but thank you for confirming."

He stepped close to her again, drawing her into his arms, marveling at how perfectly she fit there. "Now, can we dispense with politics for the night? Just be together, a man and a woman, a bottle of wine, a roaring fireplace?"

She laughed, a rueful chuckle. "Do you truly believe that I can spend time with a man, any man, and have it not be seen as a political act? I would not have thought you so naive, Teagan."

To hear her speak his name sent an unexpected thrill down his back. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

She turned to kiss him, long and slow. Then she pulled herself free of his embrace. "My risk is far greater, and I'm not convinced I'm ready to bear it. Not yet." She touched his cheek, and he caught her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "You do appreciate my position, I hope."

He paused, then nodded. "I do. Of course." Lowering their joined hands, he brushed his lips across the back of her fingers, the same gesture that had started this entire affair. If it could be called an affair. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

She pulled her hand free with a light smile. "I thought you were leaving tomorrow."

"I am." He lowered his eyes. "Between the Blight and Eamon's troubles, I've been away from home for months. I need to return there and start putting its affairs in order, to prepare it for whomever you name the new Bann. But Rainesfere is not far. If you call for me, I will come."

"I shall bear that in mind." She turned and went to the door, then turned back to look at him. "Good night, Bann Teagan."

He bowed. "Good night, my lady."

The door fell closed behind her as she left.

-x-

Anora found herself back in the courtyard of Eamon's city estate, waiting, watching, for Teagan and his entourage to appear. Had she made a mistake, seeing him last night? Or had the mistake been her decision not to stay?

When he emerged, he was alone, and on horseback. "Bann Teagan," she said, stepping forward, patted the nose of the roan gelding, then held her hand out to Teagan. "I came to wish you a safe journey. I hope to see you again soon."

He glanced up, perhaps to check the windows of the estate, then took her outstretched fingers in his. He wore leather riding gloves, the same dark red as his horse, not far from the color of his hair, but his touch was still warm. They held hands, locked eyes, for a long moment. "As do I." He lifted her hand for one last brush against his lips. "My thoughts are with you."

Then he dropped her hand and rode away. She watched him go, felt a half smile rising to her lips. This was a terrible idea. Or the best idea she'd ever had. She looked forward to discovering which it might be.


End file.
